


To John- this might help you understand. And stop hating me.

by VictoriaWoodmaine



Series: Of Consequences and Aftermaths [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock's account
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaWoodmaine/pseuds/VictoriaWoodmaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock was on his own in France destroying Moriarty's web, he used the little notepad he uses to carry in his suitpocket for crime scenes to write down his thoughts and feelings in a therapeutic attempt.</p><p>Sherlock shows those scribblings to John trying to apologize.</p><p>Every 'block' is a new entry where he picked up the pen again and wrote something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two-point-six million seconds

**Author's Note:**

> I do not give permission to repost, reproduce or archive this fanfic in part or in it's entirety to any other website except with prior written consent provided by myself, nor any profit be made from any of these works under any circumstances whatsoever.

Dear John,

as I ran out of words trying to explain to you why I did what I did and you still refuse to talk to me, I thought you may at least decide to read this.

I have told you before how deeply sorry I am and I wish this will make you understand that it was not easy for me as well.

If you still want to leave then, as much as it will hurt me, I have at least tried everything I could think of.

I regret that I cannot be a better friend or find the right words. I just don't know what to do. It pains me to admit that by now I feel absolutely helpless.

Obviously I fail to be the friend for you that I wanted to be.

Forgive me.

But please read this.

 

Sherlock.

* * *

~~Ethylendiamintetraacetate.~~  
 ~~Potassioumchloride~~  
 ~~Scalpels~~  
Milk

  
 _How?  
I don't know what I am supposed to do. _

_This is stupid._

_Why would writing it down help me in any way?_

_I can easily think without putting this all down on paper._

_  
This therapist was an idiot._

 

  
  
  
 **But it helped John.**

 

 

  
  
No.  
I helped him.  
I saved him.  
Cured his limp.

 

 

 

  
 _And destroyed him again._  
Oh god. It's working.  
How does it work?  
Why?

 

  
All right. How do I feel? What goes on in my head?  
Loneliness.  
Fear.  
Silence.

 

 

  
Where are you?  
I remember the day that I died with painful clarity. A date in the calender so ordinary that it is almost ridiculous this day should bear so much meaning to me.  
And yet it does. I don't know why.  
No.  
Of course I do.  
But I am afraid of it. Because if I ever write it down, think it aloud or tell anyone it will become real. And it will hurt so much more.  
I am afraid of the hurt.  
I don't want to be hurt.  
I never meant for you to get hurt.

 

  
  
This day changed so much.  
It changed my life forever. Our lives.  
I am sorry.  
I made a decision so important, so vital- I fail to understand how I was even able to make it in the first place without your advice. Your advice was always so important to me. You always knew something to say. Something to trigger a thought, a decision. Something to help me understand better. To relate. To feel.  
I am a man of action.  
But this is not fair.  
This is not what I had planned. If ever I planned something in my life it was always with the knowledge that it didn't really matter how things would turn out in the end. For the good or the bad, I was the only one to blame. And the only one to pay the price. To be held responsible and to live with the consequences.  
Not anymore.

 

  
  
 _Where am I?  
Why can't I be with you?_

 

  
  
Help me.

 

 

  
 **Forgive me.  
Please forgive me, John.**

 

 

  
  
I am crying.  
It's half past 10.  
I have been dead to you for barely 16 hours. And already it feels like an eternity.  
Why?  
I should focus on the task ahead. There are so many things to do. Inquire about. Data to be collected.  
It doesn't matter.  
But why?  
Why can't I focus?  
I was always able to focus. Keep my head clear in the most tense situations. Why not now?  
What is different now...  
You.

  
 **You.**  
John.  
Only you.  
But why?

 

  
  
 _I haven't slept for four days._  
It feels worse.  
Every day is getting worse.  
I am so alone in this stinking old house.  
I wish you were here with me.  
I wish.

 

  
  
I wonder what you are doing. How you are.  
Have you stopped mourning me? Moved out and on and found new friends? Old army mates? Finally a girlfriend that truly loves you? One I can't scare off?  
I hope you have.  
I really hope.  
I hope that you can smile again.  
I hope.

 

  
  
 **God, I miss your smiles!  
John.**

 

  
  
One month.  
I can't believe that it's only been a month since I died.  
It feels so much longer. Time is such a vicious companion.  
I remember that I said to you alone is what I had. That alone protected me. I honestly used to believe it.  
Now I know that I only deceived myself. It used to be so easy. On my own. Not anymore.  
So much time.  
Thirty days.  
Sevenhundred hours.  
Fortythreethousand minutes.  
Two-point-six million seconds.

 

  
  
I bought a cheap violin from an old man in a little shop down the street. I thought maybe it could help to distract me. Playing some of the old songs brought me back to Baker street when I closed my eyes.  
Your favourite, John.  
Bring him home.  
Ironical, isn't it?  
I looked up the lyrics.  
I cried, John.  
I cried. Again.

  
  
'You can take  
You can give  
Let him be  
Let him live  
If I die, let me die  
Let him live  
Bring him home  
Bring him home  
Bring him home.'

 

  
  
Three and a half minutes when I play it on this violin.  
I could have played it twelvethousand and three hundred forty two times since I left you. Since I died. I can only imagine what you feel like, John.  
Do you feel like me?  
I desperately hope not.  
Because every second feels like someone is choking me. I can't breathe. My chest aches. There's a cold inside of me I never felt before.  
What is this?  
Is this the feeling of missing your best friend? Because you are, John.  
And I regret that I never told you.  
You are.

 

 

  
  
 **** _This is too much._  
I can't do this any longer.  
I need to see you.  
I need to.

 

 

 

  
I am an idiot.  
A huge, utter idiot.  
I bought a train ticket to London. And I was already at the train station. And then I remembered.  
Safety.  
You need to be safe.  
And I can't give you that.  
Not yet.  
I hope I can, soon.  
It can't be soon enough.

 

 

 

  
  
Today I got stung by a bee.  
I don't know why I am writing this down. It acutally hurts, because it stung me in the wrist of my right hand. But I don't care.  
I don't care anymore. About anything. I just want this to end.  
Please end.  
Please.

 

  
  
I killed a man today. And I didn't feel anything.

  
  
I bought you strawberry jam. I strolled across a market and there was this old, hideous woman that sold it. It's homemade and despite my suspicion that it's most likely not really hygienic (judging the state of her kitchen hygiene by her overall attire), I know that you love everything that is homemade when it comes to food.  
I thought you might appreciate the gesture when I get home.  
I will get home.  
I promise you that.  
I will.  
  
Today was a good day.  
I killed another man, brought six into custody of the french police. I finally got some of my old thrill back.  
I was able to push all my worries and fears to the back of my head and get some work done. What a relief!  
I am not broken.  
Not completely at last.  
I also dusted the house a bit. My grandparents have been dead for almost ten years now, you can imagine the state of Ville d'Vernet.  
I found a set of china that I remembered from a visit I paid here when I was a child. It has flowers on the cups and little gold applications on the handles. Terribly girlish. But I packed it anyway. I thought it would look good in the little showcase by the window next to the fireplace.

 

  
  
The agony is back. I just took some sleeping pills. Hopefully they will help me to sleep through the most of it.  
 **Why do those bloody cicades chirp so loud??  
** **I  c a n n o t  s t a n d  i t !  W h y  c a n ' t  t h e y  j u s t**

**f u c k i n g  s t o p ? ? ?** **  
****I h a t e  t  h e  e m.** **I   r e  a l l y    h  a**

 

  
I woke up on the floor today.  
The sleeping pills were a bad idea. They not only poked the animal of addiction that's sleeping inside of me, they also rendered me completely useless. I woke up still holding the pen in my hand.  
At least I slept. Something to be happy about.  
And my mood is distinctly better today.

 

  
I'm tired of red wine and cheese. Whenever I get home, please never do make me eat cheese again. I can't stand the sight of it anymore. It makes me want to vomit. And I never  vomit.  
  
It's raining today. For the first time since I am here it is raining.  
I miss London.  
I miss you.

  
  
 ****~~Tobramanow. 6pm. Toulouse.~~  
  


****

  
**I was stabbed by a russian today. Don't worry it's nothing serious. I aided it with a napkin and some tape for now. I have to buy dressings.**   
  


  
I woke up on the sofa today because I was bleeding. The wet feeling on my side raised me from my slumbers and I immediately cleaned the wound and applied new dressings. But it's starting to be more than just uncomfortable. It actually hurts. I think I might need to see a doctor.  
If only you were here.


	2. Punishment well deserved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing scribblings of Sherlock's 'diary' during his time alone in France.
> 
> Not so many feels here, I think. Giving us all a little break.
> 
> More to come, soon!

I was prescribed to take amoxycillin to keep down the risk of infection. Apparently russian assailants have very bad knife hygiene.

 

  
  
 _Yes, that was me trying to make a funny remark._  
 _I failed._  
  
 _Obviously._

 

  
  
  
 **Stop pacing, Sherlock A. C. Holmes!**

 

  
  
  
 _I still can't sleep. My wound hurts and I am thinking of you. I wonder what you are doing right now._

 

  
  
It's 3 am btw.

 

  
  
I feel so alone.

 

  
  
 **I want tea!**

 

  
  
I bought a book about astronomy today, thinking of that conversation we had back in the early days.  
I was disappointed to learn that Pluto is no longer a 'proper planet'.  
He was always a kind of favourite of mine. I used to watch the cartoons as a child.

 

  
  
 _Well, obviously the cartoon was about a dog._

 

  
  
I probably imagined a giant dog floating in space. How childish.

 

 

  
 **'Giant dog' reminds me of Baskerville. That was fun!**

 

  
  
Although I insulted you then. I am still sorry for that, you know.  
I really do not have any other friend apart from you.

  
  
 _And now I lost you, too._

 

  
  
I don't want to cry anymore, John! I feel so stupid doing it. Helpless. What's the purpose of tears anyway? What an odd body function!

 

  
  
 _I stopped. Eventually. Thank god, I can see again. Microscoping with a blurred vision makes no sense. And tears dropping onto your samples either._

 

  
  
Today a child pointed at me and started crying. How odd. Do I make such a frightening impression on people?

 

  
  
 **I'm stuck with the case. Dead ends everywhere. I have too much time to think of you. It still hurts.**

 

  
  
Not still. It's getting worse.

 

  
  
 _I know I always say that eating is just transport. I wish you were here to insist on me eating._  
 _Or to feed me._

 

  
  
 **I don't know where this last thought came from but I am NOT going to comment on it any further. It must be the malnutrition. Or the nicotine.**

 

  
  
 _Yes, I am properly smoking again. Deal with it._

 

  
  
I am sorry for being rude there.

 

  
  
 **Please come here and scowl me.**

 

  
  
I wish you would come here and scream at me. Anything. Just be here, please.

 

  
  
 **I am slowly but definately going crazy, John.**

 

  
  
My wound is getting better. I thought you would be happy to hear this. But since you are not here I am telling it to the wall.

 

  
  
 **This wall drives me insane. It's staring back at me, making me feel like I have done something wrong!**

 

  
  
 _I have done something wrong. I hurt my best friend. And I have no chance to apologize. And that is a terrible feeling._

 

  
  
Why?

 

  
  
Why? Why?

 

  
  
 **I am so alone.**

 

  
  
I was pushed down some stairs today. I think I sprained my ankle. Destiny seems eager to punish me in all possible ways.

 

  
  
 **Actually Paracetamol can easily deal with physical pain.**  
 **Not mental, though.**  
  
 **They ought to mention that on the package.**

  
_'Not suitable for pains resulting from throwing yourself off a hospital in a desperate attempt to save your best friends life who most certainly will hate you forever if he ever finds out you actually survived that shit.'_

 

 

  
Sorry for swearing. But who's there to stop me?

 

  
  
 **I flushed all medication down the toilet, John. Too much temptation without you being there to stop me.**

  
  
I am better than that. Who I used to be.  
You made me better.

 

  
  
 _I wonder if you were proud if you knew that I did it._  
  
 _I wonder if you care about me anymore at all._

 

  
  
 **That is probably the most scary thought I ever had.**

**Stop it, sherlock!**

 

  
  
I believe that I meant at least a little bit to you, despite being such a 'prat' as you once called me.

You actually did try to stop me from jumping, so I guess that is a good sign.

 

  
  
 **I checked your blog today. I dared to because I felt quite strong.**

 

_I killed a woman this morning before she could shoot me. I feel terrible now. I don't know why but violence against women just feels worse than if it's against men. I guess Mother brought me up well in her behalf of that._

 

  
  
Your words formed a cold knot in my chest, John.

It's only one line that you wrote, but you using the past tense makes it somehow definite. Terminal.

 

  
  
 **I don't want to do this anymore!**  
 **I want to go home!**  
 **Can I come back home, please?**

 

  
  
 _Would you even be there?_

 

  
  
Chances are that you moved on and left.

 

  
  
Oh god, no.

 

  
  
 **That would make everything worse.**  
 **I always thought I could expect you to be there when I get home but I actually have to take into account that you just might not.**

 

  
  
The neighbours inquired about my well-being because I shouted so loud.  
But I felt like it. I have been quiet for far too long. Damn them.

 

  
  
 _Actually they are rather nice. They deal quite well with an odd english men suddenly living next door._

 

  
  
Although their son is a real prat. He shoots up, but they don't know.

 

  
  
The french police are even greater idiots than Anderson and his lot.

  
  
Somehow I miss Anderson for not being able to insult him.

 

  
  
I wonder how Lestrade is coping without me?

 

  
  
 _I walked past a cemetery today. Now I wonder what my funeral has been like. Did Mycroft get me a nice stone? Did he give a little speech? Has he shed tears?_

  
  
Oh no, don't think about tears again, you idiot!

 

  
  
 **Great, now I imagined you at my funeral, crying.**  
  
 **I'm dripping onto the paper.**

 

  
  
This pen is not tear-proof.

I should do some experiments on tear-proof ink.  
Could make a fortune selling it to over-emotional teenage girls and their diaries.

 

  
  
 _Ok, that was rude again. Sorry._  
 _I am not much different from said teenage girls myself right now._

 

  
  
The neighbours son, Remy, passed out in my garden today. I took him into the house and gave him a cold shower. It's what Mycroft used to do with me.

 

 

**He has infected needle marks. I cannot believe how his parents can be so oblivious about that.**

 

  
 _I myself maintained a strict needle hygiene. Didn't want to die because of StaphAureus. How stupid would that be?_

 

  
But then again shooting up is not really a proof of ones personal brilliance and judgement.

 

  
  
 _One day I have to tell you about that part of me._

  
  
**One day. Promise.**

  
  
Of course only if you want to know. But knowing you, you're probably quite curious about it. And worried.

 

  
  
 _John, I am passed that. I am wiser now. And I am scared for life of the expressions on my mother's and Mycroft's faces when they visited me in hospital._  
 _Never in rehab, though._

_They never visited me there._

 

  
  
 **Punishment well deserved I suppose.**  
  
 **And it worked. So I must be grateful for that.**

 

  
  
I am grateful for all that you did for me, John. You turned me into a better person.

 

  
  
 _I probably spoiled you._

 

  
  
 **But then again, where there is potential, there must me encouragement. And I know you enjoyed it.**

 

  
  
I promise we will continue the way we stopped.

  
  
I promise.

 

  
  
**I desperately hope you will hear me out and let me explain. And that you can forgive me.**

 

Eventually.

 

  
  
 _I am apparently allergic to honey. I just spend four hours in a hospital with moronic doctors. They gave me a Prednisolon IV and send me home. I could have done that at home myself. But then again- better not tell them I have experience with needles._

 

  
  
 **I have to find out what component of the honey it is. It's driving me insane! If only I had my kitchen lab!**

 

  
  
I thought maybe if ever I retire, I might take up bee-keeping. Imagine the thrill of it! Could kill me every second. The honey as well as the bees. Would be a nice substitue when there are no more chases possible for me.

 

  
  
 _I hope you will be there when I retire, John._


	3. If only.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...aaaaand it continues.

_I went to see an open air performance of 'Les Miserables' tonight in an attempt to distract me._

 

  
I cried through almost all of it.

 

  
It was tedious, there was an old lady who patted me on the back when she saw me. And it only made it worse because she reminded me of Mrs Hudson.

 

 

**Oh god, I miss you so much!**

 

  
I miss you

 

  
 _I miss you_

 

  
 **I miss you**

 

  
I miss you so.

 

  
  
'I dreamed a dream my life would be- so different...

 

  
  
 _Life has killed the dream I dreamed.'_  
 _Surviving has. If I would have actually died it would be easier._

 

  
  
 **I dissapointed you and myself, John.**  
 **I said it would be easier, but that's only true from my point of view.**

**To even think of it!**

**Forgive me!**

**Please forgive me!**

It's so selfish because you would still suffer. You would still be in pain.

 

 

  
 _I hope you don't suffer anymore._

  
_I hope._

 

  
  
 **I am an egoist.**

**I am such a terrible man sometimes! I hate myself for being like this!**

  
I hope you don't hate me. Or at least one day your hate for me may cease.

 

  
  
  
 _That second bottle of wine loosened my tongue obviously._

  
If you ever get to read this, make a mental note to get me drunk whenever you want me to be honest about my thoughts and feelings. It will make it easier for you and hopefully I won't remember ever talking about it.

 

 

_If I wouldn't see the proof of it in my own handwriting I wouldn't believe it either. Alcohol makes me deep apparently._

**How tedious.**

Remember it though.

 

 

That neighbour kid stole money off me when I was fast asleep curing my hangover.

 

 

**I found a volume of Victor Hugo in my grandmother's bedroom.**

**Tears again.**

This bedroom is probably the scariest room in the entire country. I will continue to sleep on the sofa.

 

 

_'The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.'_

You loved me as a friend in spite of the terrible creature I sometimes am.

 

 

**Thank you.**

_I never expected to find a person like you._

You are a true friend.

 

 

**I don't deserve you, you know.**

_I don't know why you stayed._

How you managed to put up with me all this time.

 

 

**I am sincerely grateful you didn't leave like everybody else always does.**

  
**It's a rare experience for me.**

_I'm whining. I'm sorry._

I am slowly reaching the inner circle of Moriarty's web. Let's hope I don't get killed.

 

 

_Although it wouldn't make any difference to you, would it?_

**Okay, so I am obviously not coping very well. I might need to see a doctor again.**

**One for my head.**

I will definately NOT lie down on some sort of couch and pour my heart out though.

 

 

_Ridiculous thought._

On the other hand, what's the alternative if I refuse to take medication?

 

 

**Okay, my mind is racing ahead again.**

  
**Let's see how I feel tomorrow.**

I wish you a good night, John.

 

Sleep tight.

 

 

John, I woke up in a condition I haven't been in in quite a long time.

 

 

**THIS is very confusing!**

I dreamt of you, you know.

I came back and you were there waiting for me.

 

 

_If only it were that easy._


	4. Writing things down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it goes oooon and oooon...
> 
> I'm not sure how long I should stall this whole thing but there are a couple of things left that I want to include.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sammywol for correcting spelling and grammar!  
> I really appreciate it!

I am only a faint memory of the man I used to be.

  
  
 _Sometimes that's unfortunate. I used to deal more easily with emotions._

_As you are aware I simply surpressed them as well as I could._

 

  
  
 **It's not like I was unable to feel, John.**

 

  
  
I am quite empathetic. That's the problem.

 

  
  
 _When people start to pick on you, starting at the age of seven you do get to a point where you just don't care anymore._

 

  
  
You, Mycroft and Mummy are the only people to know that now.

 

  
  
The constant disappointment of the people surrounding me left a deep impression.

 

  
  
 **You did never disappoint me, John.**  
  
 **You were always brilliant.**

 

  
  
In your own way.

 

 

  
 _You taught me that even an average intellect can conduct the most brilliant things._

 

 

  
  
I hope you understand my humble ways of complimenting you.

 

  
  
**I never told you so in person. That's a shame.**

 

 

  
  
You are a conductor of light. You stimulate my brain.

 

  
  
 _I really enjoyed being stimulated by you and your presence in the flat._

 

  
  
All right, that sounded different than I intended.

 

  
  
 **It's true though. You made me feel happy.**

 

 

  
  
And at home.

 

 

_I finally had a proper place I could call 'home' after many, many years._

 

 

  
  
 ~~Moran, S.~~  
 ~~Col. 1st Norfolk fuss.~~  
 ~~3pm, TGV to Paris~~

 

 

  
  
 **I am growing so tired of people trying to shoot me.**

 

  
  
He missed. Don't worry. Although the car is severly damaged now.

 

  
  
 _That's quite a shame for it was a vintage one._

 

  
  
I suppose its value is now significantly decreased.

 

  
  
Although I guess there are people who would enjoy a car with bullet holes all over.

 

  
  
One would have to change the windscreen though.

 

  
  
 **Milk.**

**I bought milk today.**

 

  
  
I don't know why I am writing this down. Probably because I know it would make you happy if you knew.

 

  
  
 _If only._

 

  
  
If only I could tell you.

 

  
  
 ** John. **

 

  
  
I'm scared.

 

  
  
 _What do I do if you don't want me back?_

 

  
  
How do I deal with that?

 

  
  
How?

 

  
  
 **Somebody tell me!**

 

  
  
Explain.

 

  
  
I need data!

 

  
  
 **Somebody please help me!!!**

 

  
  
_Stop this mayhem going on inside me!_

 

  
  
Is it possible that one's heart actually feels heavy?

 

  
  
 _As in aching because you're missing something so badly?_

_Someone?_

 

 

  
You ought to know that, you're a doctor.

 

  
  
 **I need my doctor!!**

 

  
  
I need you.

 

  
  
 _Seriously, I do._

 

  
  
 **Where are you?**

 

  
  
John, please.

 

  
  
If only you could reply.

 

  
  
 _I wonder if you are doing something quite similar._

 

  
  
Writing things down.

 

  
  
This really has become a habit now.

 

  
  
 _Not a bad one though._

_I guess I have to give your therapist some credit after all._

_I really do feel a little better._

 

  
  
How ironic is my last scribbling now that I am sitting here after waking up and screaming?  
I screamed because I dreamt I were with you and then I woke up and you were gone.  
And the memory of it all came back.

 

  
  
 _Why can't I just wipe both of our memories?_

 

  
  
 **Why?**

 

  
  
Because I would have missed so much.

 

  
  
I would never remember the smile on your face in the morning when you had a good nights sleep and your shoulder didn't hurt for once.

 

  
  
 _Yes, I recognised that._

 

 

Every single time.

 

  
  
 **Judge me.**

 

  
  
I would miss the smell of your shampoo on the towels.  
Or your aftershave on the sofa.

 

  
  
 _Yes, it does smell like that._

_Did you never notice how often you fall asleep on it?_

 

  
  
 **I miss that sofa.**

 

  
This one here is quite old and the springs dig into my back.

 

  
  
 _I suppose I deserve nothing else._

 

  
  
How is your shoulder, John?

 

  
  
What about your leg?

 

  
  
 **Oh god, I hope I didn't cause the limp to come back.**

 

  
  
I was so happy when it had gone.

 

  
  
 _Probably it's back, though. Another point on my list of things to apologize for._

 

  
  
I'm sorry.

  
  
 **I'm so sorry.**

 

  
  
 _How do other people cope with such a thing?_

 

  
  
I mean, there's probably not many people that fake their own death to stop a criminal individual from killing their loved ones.

 

  
  
You are, you know?  
  
A part of my list of 'loved ones'.

 

  
  
 _Mummy_  
 _Mycroft_  
 _Mrs Hudson_  
 _John_

 

  
  
That's my list. Although not in order of priority!

 

  
  
 **Oops, I forgot Molly and Greg!**

 

  
  
I am capable of loving.

 

  
  
I may be inexperienced and at odds with the details but I do love you all.

 

  
  
 _You are very dear to me and I think the fact that I destroyed everything I ever had speaks in favour of that, doesn't it?_

 

  
  
My entire life as I used to know it and used to love it- what I built- is gone.

 

  
  
 **For you.**

 

  
I did it all for you.

 

  
  
 _**And I would do it again, bloody hell!** _

 

  
  
Sorry.

 

  
  
 _I could never live on, knowing that I could have done something to prevent you from dying._

 

  
  
I would hang myself in our very living room if this failed.

 

  
  
THIS MUST NOT FAIL!

 

  
  
**IT WILL NOT FAIL!!!**

 

  
  
 _Please god, don't let me fail._


	5. Human contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this is very short, but I promise the next chapter will follow tomorrow!
> 
> I'll leave you with the title for it, so you can brood a little over that.  
> I know- I'm a teaser.  
> Judge me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for chapter 6 will be
> 
> 'For the good and for the bad'
> 
> Now updated with kind corrections of grammar from sammywol. Thank you!

_Today is Mrs Hudson's birthday._

  
  
Do you remember, John?

 

  
 **Of course you do.**

  
  
You should go and give her a hug from me.

  
  
 _I know, I usually don't do hugs._

  
  
Actually Mrs Hudson is the only person whom I enjoy to get hugged by.

  
  
I regret that I never hugged you. Not even for your birthday.

  
  
**I would really love a hug now.**

  
  
Oh god, I'm longing for the simple human contact of a hug!

  
  
 _I would even accept a hug from my brother._

  
  
Hug me, John.

  
  
 **Please.**

  
  
When I get home, please let me hug you.

  
  
 _I want to hug you._

  
  
Let me hold you.

  
  
 **Please let me.**


	6. For the good and for the bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can only repeat the wise words of the greatest man who ever traveled the universe:
> 
> I'm sorry.  
> I'm so sorry.

The weather represents my mood, John.

 

 

**It's constantly raining now.**

 

  
  
 _Summer in France would have been quite enjoyable under different circumstances. Autumn is less appealing._

 

  
  
One day, I have to take you to this place, to spend summer here.

 

  
  
 **If you want me to.**

 

  
  
 _I don't know why I am thinking of taking you on a holiday._

 

  
  
Okay yes, I know.

 

  
  
I never bothered myself with 'holidays' before. I didn't understand the concept.

 

  
  
 **I have to change that.**

 

  
Too many missed experiences.

 

  
  
 _I wonder if you like french food._

 

  
  
I wouldn't recommend snails, though.  
They taste like rubber, soaked in garlic.

 

  
  
 **The one time I ate them (I had to, my Father would have highly disapproved otherwise), I felt like a dog chewing on a toy.**

 

  
  
I suppose that particular chef is to blame.

 

  
  
 _The rain is depressing. And although it helps me sleep, it makes me think of London._  
 _And that is not good._

 

 

  
London is sunny right now. I checked the weather.

How odd.

 

  
  
Still raining here.

 

  
  
 **Tedious.**

 

  
  
The milk has turned sour. I blame the weather.

 

  
  
 _No, I have to blame myself for that. I forgot to put it back into the fridge._

 

  
  
 **Sorry.**

 

  
  
I am seriously developing symptoms of chronic depression.

 

  
  
I have to do something about that. But how do I do it?

 

  
  
'Patients are advised to write down about all the things happening to them, inducing feelings of happiness and joy, thereby re-developing the correct perspective on life'

 

  
  
 **So far, so obvious.**  
 **Brilliant.**

 

  
  
Sorry again.

 

  
  
So here's my list:

  * I have eliminated 28 targets by now. Although I believe they didn't actually have that in mind counting as a 'thing that made me happy'



         It did anyway.  
  
Judge me.  


  * There is only one person left.



 

  * I cleaned the house.



  
Yes, I really did.  


  * I cured Remy of his addiction.



  
Well, I nicked all of his heroin supplies and flushed them down the toilet.  
The boy really is terribly predictable in his hiding places.  
  
You can imagine his rage. Delightful.  
  
Although really cruel from his perspective.  
  
And I know his perspective.  
Thank you, Mycroft.

  


  * I battled addiction. That's also something to be happy about.



 

  * I hurt you.



 

 

 **STOP!**  
  
Okay, this was intended to be a list of good things, but I obviously ran out of ideas.  
  
So for the bad:

 

  * Again, I hurt you.



 

  * I am an addict.



 

 

  * I am rude and often oblivious to social norms.



 

  * I am a high-functioning sociopath.



 

  
That last bit rather belongs to the 'good list'

 

  * I am not good with children.



 

  * Or dogs.



 

  * I have an awkward relationship with my brother.



 

  * I have father-complexes.



  
I am waffling, I'm sorry.  
I'm avoiding to think or write about the most recent things I did.

  


  * I hurt my best friend.



 

  * I deliberately put him through an agonizing time, to save his life.



 

  * I put myself through an agonizing time.



 

  * I still AM in the middle of this agonizing time.



 

  * I am not good at apologies.



 

  * I eat far too little.



 

  * I smoke far too much.



 

  
 _This is silly! The 'bad' list is far longer than the 'good' one._  
  
 _How is this supposed to help?_

 

  
  
I knew that 'google' was not a resource to be trusted upon such matters.

 

  
  
 **Can you imagine the results I got, when I googled the words 'Best friend, longing and advice'?**

 

  
  
The internet has become a pool of idiocy, gossip and porn.

 

  
  
Lots of the latter.

 

  
 _A quite shocking amount of the latter._

 

  
This weather is really affecting my mood for the worse.

 

  
  
The leaves are falling. London is beautiful in that time.

 

  
  
 **I miss you.**

 

  
  
My neighbours invited me over for dinner. I politely declined. I don't think their son would approve of my company.

 

  
  
 _And I suspect they would serve snails._

 

  
  
 **God, I have a persistent craving for scones and clotted cream!**

 

  
  
We have to eat that as soon as I am back.

 

  
  
 _We should make that a habit. Every sunday or so._

 

  
  
Rain.

 

  
  
 **More rain.**

 

  
  
 _The stench of fading lavender soaked in rain._

 

  
  
How poetic.

 

  
  
Beautiful though, as an image.

 

  
  
You should see this, John.

 

  
  
You should be here.

 

  
 **With me.**

 

  
  
How long?

 

  
  
 _I was almost run over by a car today, chasing Moran._

 

  
  
I feel quite pathetic about it.

 

  
  
 **And it was a citroen.**

 

  
  
 _Imagine me, surviving a fall from a five-story building and then being run over by a citroen in the bloody countryside of southern France!_

 

  
  
Sorry, again. Didn't mean to swear.

 

  
  
The rain has stopped btw.

 

  
  
But now it's cold.

 

  
  
 **I still haven't caught Moran.**

 

  
  
That man is good!

 

  
  
But not as good as me!

 

  
  
 _John, I will get him and then I will_

 

  
  
Please don't be upset, John, but I was shot. Moran tried to shoot me as I chased him down a street.

 

 

It was only in the arm though.

 

  
  
It's more of a scratch, really.

 

  
  
 **Don't worry.**

 

  
  
It didn't even bleed much.

 

  
  
Although my jumper is ruined. That's a shame.

 

  
  
 _I imagine you would be rather fond of seeing me in a jumper. I pretend to be a writer so I can spend most of my time inside and stay up late without people wondering._

 

  
  
 **You know how these countryfolk are like- always gossiping.**

 

  
  
Especially about new neighbours.

 

  
  
 _There is talk I am an english bestseller writer called 'Norman Finnemore'._

 

  
  
 **What kind of name is 'Norman'?**

 

  
  
Well, what kind of name is 'Sherlock'?

 

  
Apologies to all Normans. I feel with you.

 

 

it’s november today. the 6th month since I died.

what an unhappy anniversary!

maybe I should celebrate by having a picnic at the local cemetery and crying into my handkerchief?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know....
> 
> I know...
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> I hope I haven't lost you by now. Please hang on for chapter 7 'The Reason'. It will be the conclusion of this part. Then John's perspective will follow.


	7. The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I always thought that such feelings were a dangerous disadvantage.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of this part.
> 
> Stay tuned for John's POV of the events and of course- the consequences and aftermaths of all this in the next story.

**John, I am done. It’s over.**

** It’s finally over! **

 

I killed Moran today in this very house. I woke up to find him sitting in my armchair writing into this journal. He laughed at it- and at me.

I suppose he did not expect me to expect him!

Or that I sleep with a Beretta 92FS Inox under my pillow. Ironically the very gun I nicked off his employer, after he shot himself in the head with it, on the roof at St.Barts.

I suppose he also didn’t believe I would be able to actually shoot him.

 

He walked right into my trap, you know.

I didn’t fail to catch him that first time.

I didn’t do the second time, when he shot me.

I intended him to recognize me and eventually follow me home.

There, I left this diary on display for him to read, with the intention it would deceive him and make him believe, that I had slowly lost my mind over time. That I was unable to focus or concentrate in my state of emotional distress.

How wrong he was.

Nobody could ever keep me from doing this! Finishing this!

All this pain and misery built up a tension, that- when I finally snapped- led to the conclusion, that the only possible way to solve this, was by detaching myself as much as possible and finding my old self again.

That- or dying in shame and despair.

And that must never be an option.

 

Although this time I found it particularly difficult to purge all emotion, I realized that at the same time I benefitted from them.

The strong feelings that I hold for you, are the ultimate source of motivation against defeat!

 

I always thought that such feelings were a dangerous disadvantage.

I was wrong.

 

Emotion may be your greatest weakness- but it is at the same time your greatest motivation and incentive to give all that you can- more than you can possibly imagine- to fight for the one thing, the only thing that makes life worth living.

Your reason.

 

If you can’t preserve it, keep it safe- then what is there to live for?

Death is no disgrace, if there is no appeal to survive.

**But you are my reason, John.**

**My only reason.**

 

I would have never believed to find a person, with whom I could form such a strong connection.

Someone to complete me and who was everything I failed to be.

I can’t possibly go back to life as it was before I met you.

 

There would be cases (hopefully)- but there would not be the same joy as in solving them together with you.

As I am sitting on the plane back to London now, I can’t wait to get home!

It still feels a bit unreal to think that finally- **FINALLY** \- I can return to you.

I only hope that I did not lose you forever through this, and have to live with the knowledge that you are somewhere out there, alive and well, but I can’t be with you!

I am torn apart between anticipation to see you and the fear of you rejecting me.

But I had to retain myself for far too long!

I will not give up without trying, because the single most dreadful thing to me, as you know, is uncertainty about facts.

 

Option #1: I will be able to make it up to you, eventually.

Option #2: You will hate me forever (which I couldn’t blame you for) and I have to live on, in my current state of emotion.

 

Whatever you decide, I am afraid that the right thing to do is to accept your choice.

Although it will be the final proof for me NEVER to make the mistake again to invest emotion in another person.

The only thing that I will have gained from this entire ordeal is this:

 

 _Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans flames._  
-Francois de la Rochefoucauld

  
In all this time I have finally come to a conclusion that is very upsetting, John. Because it makes everything so much worse.

**You need to know, that everything I wrote down in this journal is entirely genuine!**

I first contemplated to use it against Moran when I ran out of other possibilities!

I wrote everything of this in all honesty, pouring my heart out and documenting my thoughts, never intending for anyone to read this, not even you.

I wrote it as I thought it, and I wrote it as I felt it.

  
  
If you ever get to read this, you will by now have realised that my feelings of longing for you and the torment it gave me to be apart from you, exceed the normal extent of male friendship.  
  
I do not dare to write it down, nor say those words out loud, because if I ever do, I won't be able to take them back and pretend that this was never real.

  
I will never be able to convince myself, that you do not hold the place inside of my heart that you obviously do.  
  
Your rejection will be my ultimate failure and I am absolutely terrified of its consequences.  
  
So I hope you never get to read this.  
  
I hope.

 

 

* * *

 

P.S.:

The worst part of this entire thing, was not being on my own in France and not even the knowledge of you being hurt and alone at home-

  
It was that moment when I lay on the ground, as conscious and aware as I have ever been in my entire life and seeing you reaching out for my hand, trying to feel my pulse- ever the responsible doctor.

I was internally screaming, wishing I could stop all this, right there and then and tell you the truth, but knowing, that if I did, I would lose you forever- I wouldn't be able to save you.  
  
I may be a genius, but even geniuses are helpless when it comes to bullets.  
  
I couldn't.

I just couldn't risk it.  
  
 **I'm sorry.**

  
  
I pray to all deities, whether they exist or not, that one day you might be able to forgive me.  
  
 **One day.**

 

Believe me to be, my dear John,

     very sincerely yours,

     _Sherlock_

 


End file.
